


Time Enough: Four Autumn Drabbles

by irisbleufic



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: Homecoming, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-01
Updated: 2009-08-01
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:58:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It had certainly taken them long enough.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Enough: Four Autumn Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in August of 2009.

**How It's Done**

"You didn't mention the bit where it gets your fingers all red," Danny complained, bringing the knife down for another go. It sliced through the cabbage and hit the cutting-board with a satisfying _thwock_.

Nicholas turned from his stirring at the stove to glance over Danny's shoulder. "It's the juices," he said, half smiling. "Can't be helped. You're doing just fine, so keep it up."

"I don't think I've ever eaten the stuff," Danny mused, dropping a handful of the chopped cabbage into the plastic mixing-bowl that Nicholas had provided. "I know it's traditional and all, but Dad wasn't fond of red cabbage, so Mum never made it." He probably sounded a touch misty just thinking about them.

Nicholas leaned over and kissed the side of his neck. "If you like it, I promise you I'll make it all the time."

"Sounds like a plan," said Danny, brightly, and got back to chopping.

 

**Early Risers**

Before Nicholas Angel had marched into his life and turned everything upside-down, Danny had never got stuck with the early-early patrol shift in his life. His dad, huge homocidal wanker though he'd turned out to be, had always respected the fact that Danny found it hard to drag his arse out of bed before 9:00 AM. Long nights of cheesy action flicks and Play Station 2 took a lot out of a bloke.

To be fair, Nicholas had the sense to schedule them for insane-fucking-mental shift together. It meant that, two days out of the week (Tuesdays and Thursdays), they only had to set one alarm clock (Nicholas's). That way, Danny got to wake up to Nicholas snogging him or, if he was really fortunate, giving him a blow-job, because he rarely stayed awake in the five minutes between the alarm going off and Nicholas lying there quietly hating the fact that they really did have to get up.

Once coaxed through a hot shower and into his uniform, Danny generally spent the remaining twenty minutes till they had to be out the door dozing on the sofa while Nicholas pottered about the kitchen filling their thermoses (weak tea for himself, strong coffee for Danny) and packing a light breakfast (Danny had argued long and hard for the legitimacy of McVitie's chocolate digestives).

It's not all bad, though. There's always that quiet moment as they're parked at the lay-by when the car is filled with the mingling scents of coffee, tea, and chocolate. It's so quiet that you can hear them both munching on biscuits (yes, even Nicholas), and the sun's just barely peeking above the horizon, which Danny can see through slitted eyes as he leans contently on Nicholas's shoulder.

 

 

**House Call**

The widowed Mrs. Angel is, Danny decides, just that: an angel. She keeps a small, tidy flat in the outskirts of Reading, and her garden is, he has to admit, equally as impressive as the one Nicholas keeps back at the cottage. It's plain to see that her son comes by his green thumb honestly. And she makes a mean cup of Irish Breakfast.

"...put in those boxes with the begonias, petunias, and pansies early in the summer," continues Mrs. Angel, wrapping her steady, wrinkled hands around her glazed mug. She glances sidelong, across the table and out the window, where Nicholas is busy pottering about in the fierce July sun with a plant mister and a pair of clippers. "I had hoped to lay in some herbs, but I doubt they'd survive in this heat."

"He's really thorough, isn't he?" Danny asks, trying to distract her. She hadn't seemed too happy when Nicholas had spotted blight on the roses from inside the kitchen, what when the roses were clear on the opposite side of the garden. She had probably wanted to spend the afternoon visiting with her son and his partner, not idly chatting with said partner while said son went over her plants with a fine-pointed trowel.

As if he can hear them, Nicholas suddenly pauses and squints from his vantage point near the rose bushes. Danny grins, waves, and makes a kissy face just to annoy him. Nicholas's sunburnt cheeks grow brighter as he turns away and continues spritzing the leaves with that nasty blight-treatment stuff that he had got all over the sink.

Mrs. Angel waves, too, smiling in spite of herself. There's a hint of irony in her blue eyes, which crinkle at the corners in the same sharp, endearing way as her son's.

"He's a pain in the arse, that's what," she murmurs under her breath, but fondly.

 _Yeah_ , Danny thinks, beaming into his mug, _but he's_ my _pain in the arse_.

 

 

**Time Enough**

It had taken them a while to get past fast-and-frantic, even though Danny had only been out of the hospital for about three weeks when they finally cracked. Predictably, it had been a movie night gone wrong—or, as it were, unbelievably right. Nicholas had spent every night since at Danny's flat. After a few days of whispers, odd looks, and dumbfounded smiles, it had been abundantly clear that they had very little to hide.

Now, a month on, Nicholas was giving serious consideration to broaching the subject of don't-you-think-we'll-have-more-room-for-your-DVD-collection-at-the-cottage? Serious enough consideration, in fact, that it was out of his mouth before he could force in another forkful of broccoli. Danny liked it when Nicholas cooked, but he didn't like many vegetables. Nicholas was offering half out of impatience, half in apology.

Danny's smile spread slowly, but his eyes lit up instantly.

"Wondered what was takin' you so long," he admitted, leaning in for a kiss.

Getting the plates onto the coffee table was easy enough, although one fork ended up on the floor with a bit of broccoli still stuck on the prongs. And whether it was because they were feeling full and sluggish as it was, or because all of the tense desperation had finally given way to sheer relief, they were content to simply take their time.

It had certainly taken them long enough.


End file.
